Runaway bride
by NoelleG
Summary: Neville's day just took an unexpected turn, or so Hermione thinks. Armed with a bottle of Firewhiskey and a lot of experience on the matter, she goes to find him and offers her support. She hadn't meant to support him that way, though.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione wasn't really surprised that she found him on the Greenhouse. She'd started associating that place with him long before he actually became the Herbology Professor. Now that she had him in front of her, she realized she actually had no idea what to say to him.

Sitting on the floor with his back against one of the benches, his former Auror's reflexes kicked in and he spun his head a split second after she put a foot inside the Greenhouse. She smiled at him, shyly.

"I come bearing gifts," she showed him the Firewhiskey bottle she'd snatched from the cocktail before leaving to find him. He regarded her for a second, before going back to his position. Hermione sighed. "I can go, if you want."

He shook his head. "Stay," he asked her. "I can't promise to be a really good company, though."

"That's fine," Hermione took a sit next to him, placing the Firewhiskey bottle between them. "I've been told on occasion I'm no good company, myself."

Neville snorted. "And by 'on occasion' you mean 'whenever Ron felt the need to lash out at you', right?"

That was the first time Hermione had ever heard Neville utter something close to a bad word about any of his friends. He was usually easy-going, and he mostly kept his opinions to himself about the personal matters of the rest of them. She supposed she couldn't blame him he'd chosen that particular day to break that particular rule.

"He's done that a few times, yes," she finally answered him.

Neville arched a brow, but didn't comment what an understatement that phrase was, and Hermione felt really grateful that he didn't.

"You know," he said after a couple of minutes, "whenever someone's in this situation and a friend comes to offer support, the usual thing to say is 'you don't know how this feels', but that would be a little out of line here."

"It would," Hermione agreed. "Not the reason I'm here, though."

Opening the Firewhiskey bottle she'd brought with her, Neville had a long drink before placing it back between them. "So you mean you didn't draw the short stick because you could relate to how utterly miserable I'm feeling right now?"

The laugh that escaped her lips was inevitable. Just like he'd done, she took a long drink of Firewhiskey.

"This is probably something I shouldn't say aloud," she admitted, "but I actually felt _relieved_ when it happened to me."

Neville blinked at her, surprised. "I thought you wanted to…"

"I did," he beat her to take the bottle. "Or I thought I did. The nearer the big day was, though, I started feeling less… enthusiastic about it. More like I was _dreading_ it."

His laughed surprised her. "You're right. You should probably not say that aloud."

"Would you keep my secret?"

Neville smiled and passed her the bottle. "Only if you keep _my_ secret back."

"I'll try my best," she promised him.

Sitting a little straighter, his shoulders squared while he caught air, Hermione thought Neville looked like he was bracing himself to say what he was about to say. It had taken her a while, to admit to even herself, how she really felt about that particular day of her life, so she could understand why.

"Had Hannah not called off the wedding," he finally said, " _I_ would have."

Hermione blinked. "But you look… _sad._ "

"I'm _crossed_ ," he confessed, "that she was braver than me and did it before."

It was probably the wrong thing to do, Hermione thought, but she just couldn't _not_ burst out laughing at that confession. And once she started, it was hard to stop. She wanted to, but she just _couldn't_. Neville was looking at her as if he were trying to determine if he should be offended that she was laughing or if he should join her.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'm… that was totally inappropriate, and I blame it on the Firewhiskey. It's just… you're crossed that Hannah pulled a runaway bride on you before _you_ could do it to her. It's…"

"Ridiculous?" he offered. "I'm starting to think none of us is matured enough to actually get married, despite what people might think."

Hermione shrugged, and drank again. "I don't know. Harry and Ginny seem pretty happy to me."

"They might be the exception," Neville concluded. "Why did you feel relieve when Ron called off the wedding?"

That was a question she had been expecting, but that didn't make answering to it less hard. It took her a lot of time to understand why she didn't want to marry Ron, despite the feelings she'd harboured for him for years.

"Did you know our relationship started the day of the Final Battle?" Neville shook his head. "He made a comment about needing to get the house elves out of Hogwarts and I just kissed him. Things had been building up between us for long before that, pretty much the whole year we were on the run, but that's when it actually started."

Neville nodded. "In the heat of the battle."

"Yeah," she drank again. She was going to end that conversation pissed. "And the first year after that, our relationship was still about the war. He was mourning for Fred, and I was dealing with the aftermath of what Bellatrix did to me."

The mention of Bellatrix made Neville shudder. He gently took the arm where she had the scar that would be forever carved into her, and traced the word with his fingers. "Does it hurts?"

She shook her head. "I had tremors, for a while, randomly," she explained. "I had to take a potion for a while to keep it under control, and it eventually went away. The aftermath I'm referring to is more psychological than physical, though."

Understanding filled his expression. "Nightmares?"

"The doctors called it night terrors. I would just go over and over again through that day whenever I managed to fall asleep."

"I'm sorry."

She smiled at him. "I got over it. And Ron helped, really. A _lot_. He was there when it happened, and he understood how I was feeling. He was really patient with me. But then… time passed, and I got over the night terrors and he got over his pain from losing Fred and it all just… came back to normal."

"You started fighting."

"Like cats and dogs," she nodded. "Just like when we were at Hogwarts. And it only got worse with time. The wedding was actually Molly's idea, and we both agreed to it because it seemed like the logical next step. But I think both of us knew even when we agreed that we'd be miserable married."

The expression Neville wore made Hermione think that he, too, thought that.

"Why didn't you call it off, then?"

She blushed. "I was… You know what happened to my parents?" Neville nodded. "The Weasleys were the only family I had left. Harry was already engaged to Ginny and was going to be a part of them, too. I was afraid that if I broke things up with Ron I'd be… alone."

His hand took hers, and he gave her a little squeeze. "You don't have to feel embarrassed for that."

Hermione shook her head. "It's selfish. Marry to someone just because you don't want to be alone… I think Ron would have gone through with it for the same reason, had he not met Julie."

"He's still your friend, and he worries about you."

She laughed. "He _pities_ me."

"Nothing about you to be sorry for," Neville assured her. "Wanna know why I wanted to call my wedding off?" When she nodded, he got closer to her and whispered, "I got _bored_."

 _Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh_ , she told to herself. Laughing again at his confession would have been really rude. She was a sensible person. She was _not_ rude to her friends. And still…

"You got bored?" she repeated. "You mean… of the wedding, of Hannah…?"

He drank one more time. They had already finished with half the bottle. "Of our relationship. Growing up, everything was _boring_ for me. I'm sure you remember what kind of kid I was in school. That's why I loved the DA so much. It made me feel part of something big and exciting. Then, that last year…"

"That last year you were _amazing_ ," Hermione interrupted him. "You led a rebellion against the Death Eaters. And the snake… Merlin, that image will forever be engraved on my brain."

Neville blushed a little. "The thing is, after that, I kind of realized I quite like the… emotion. And things with Hannah were not all that exciting. It was all… I don't know, I guess after a whole life of being just average, and then experience the thrill of being something else, I didn't wanna go back to settle for just… _average_."

That was something she could understand.

"So you want to get lost in a love that consumes you with passion?" she joked.

Neville laughed. "Sort of. Is that a bad thing?"

"Of course not. Everyone should experience love like that."

"Have you?"

It was Hermione's turn to laugh. "No. I don't think being consumed by _rage_ every time you fight with your boyfriend enters that category."

"Probably not," he agreed. "What about the makeup sex?"

She probably hadn't blush so hard in her entire life, and giving Ginny's obsession for making uncomfortable questions, no matter the topic, that was definitely saying something. Having Neville, the sweet kid she'd helped with Potions for years, asking her about her sex life, though, that definitely beat Ginny.

"That's a lot of blush, Miss Granger," Neville laughed. "Was it that good sex?" She blushed even harder, suddenly very uncomfortable, and Neville, to her mortification, seemed to understand why. "Oh. _Oh._ Sorry, I thought…"

Hermione sighed. "That despite mine and Ron's incompatible characters, we at least had good sex to make up for it?"

"Sex with Hannah was boring," he offered. "She really liked missionary style. Like… a lot. And she didn't feel comfortable trying new…"

"I _really_ don't need to know what positions Hannah feels comfortable in during sex," she decided to interrupt him. "On her wedding day. From her almost-husband."

Neville laughed. "Sorry. I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

Taking another _big_ drink of Firewhiskey, she shook her head. "I spend most of my time with Harry and Ron. Harry blushes at the mere mention of a kiss, and Ron's my ex-boyfriend so… I'm not exactly used to have conversations about sex. Ginny tried, but Harry is like a brother to me, and Ron _is_ her brother, which made it all incredibly awkward."

"Yeah, doesn't seem the best of company to talk about sex. I blame it on Voldemort, you know." She looked at him, confused. "Harry, Ron and you spent too much time getting into trouble because of him during school. The rest of us had a lot of proper conversations about sex growing up, like normal teenagers do."

It was meant as a joke, but Hermione thought he was probably right. Neither of them had normal experiences during school. She guessed Lavender and Parvati had many girl talks in their dorm she didn't pay attention to, too worried about Harry and the impending war.

"Seems like I lost lots of fun."

Neville shrugged. "There were pretty lame conversations. Seamus was pinning for Lavender, who didn't even turned to look him twice, too busy blushing over Ron. And Dean was pinning for Ginny, and we all know what that ended up…"

"Who were you pinning for?"

If she had blushed hard at the mention of sex, Neville had sure beat her now after her question.

"Ooh, I see an interesting answer coming," she laughed. "Was it Ginny? You _did_ invite her to the Yule Ball, after all."

It took Neville a few minutes to compose himself –and an incredibly long drink of Firewhiskey that nearly emptied the bottle- to finally answer her.

"If you recall, I invited another girl first," he smiled, shyly. "She was already taken, though. Has been for a long time."

 _Oh._ A long silence followed Neville's confession. She _had_ been really distracted at school, Hermione thought to herself. She'd spend a lot of time with Neville –pretty much all the time she was not with Harry and Ron- and never once she even suspected Neville felt nothing more like friendship and gratitude towards her.

"I'm… sorry."

He laughed. "That I had a crush on you, or that you were completely oblivious to it?"

"The latter," she rushed to answer. "I didn't… Did I… Did I led you on, without noticing? I mean…"

A hand in her mouth stopped her rambling. "You didn't," Neville promised her. He was suddenly _really_ close. And he smelt like Firewhiskey. "You treated me like any other guy. Never once laughed at me for forgetting things or being rubbish at Potions. You helped me find Trevor every single time I lost him, not complaining once. And when I asked you to the Yule Ball, you didn't laugh, didn't pity me. You _apologized_ for not being able to go with me."

She honestly didn't know what to say to that.

"After the war, lots of girls approached me," he admitted. "One of them once told me that maybe Harry Potter was the _real_ hero, but I was fittest."

"That's… awful." True –the fittest part-, but awful nonetheless.

He nodded. "What I mean to say, Hermione, is that you never led me on. You treated me with respect. You wanted to be my friend; you _were_ my friend, long before I led a rebellion or beheaded a snake. That's what made me have feelings for you."

Wanting desperately to break the tension that had suddenly fill the Greenhouse, she bumped her shoulder with his and smiled. "So you have a fan club now?"

It worked. Neville laughed. "I do, apparently."

"Maybe one of them can help you find that passion you're looking for," she offered.

She choke with the Firewhiskey at his answer. "Maybe I wanna take my chances now that both I and my school crush are free."

So apparently the tension _hadn't_ broke, Hermione thought to herself while she coughed and Neville patted her back.

"That was probably a little embarrassing," he told her when he made sure she was fine. "I just propositioned to you and you almost choke to death."

Hermione glared at him. "You propositioned to me while I was _drinking._ "

A sheepish smile on his lips, Neville came a little closer. "So it wasn't as much about the proposal as it was about the Firewhiskey?"

For a brief moment, Hermione wondered if it was possible to have _never_ thought about having sex with a person and suddenly, out of nowhere, not being able to think about anything else.

She had always seen Neville as a friend. And he was right, she'd seen him as a friend since the day they have met, not once caring about the things other kids use to laugh at him for. She'd been really proud the day of the Final Battle when she arrived at Hogwarts with Harry and Ron and saw the _man_ Neville had become. She had always knew he was destined to do great things, if just he managed to leave his fears behind. But she had always be proud of him.

Never, though, had she thought about Neville as a potential love interest, or sexual partner, for that matter. She had spent all her years at Hogwarts trying to sort out her feelings for Ron, and when they broke up, Neville was already dating Hannah and soon after got engaged, so she had never let herself think of Neville that way.

But now he was in front of her, admitting he still had feelings for her, that he'd had feelings for her during all those years at Hogwarts. And he was looking at her like _that_. And she had drunk way too much Firewhiskey to have any inhibitions. How could she not think about it?

"So?" he talked again. "Was it the proposition or was just that I did it while you were drinking?"

"I was… I was drinking," she managed to answer.

She suddenly felt very lightheaded. Neville seemed to notice, because he frowned at her, placing both hands in her cheeks and forcing her to look at him.

"Hermione?" he sounded very serious. "Have you had too much to drink? Because as much as I'd like this to happen… I don't want to take advantage of you."

Cute that it was that he was worried about that, Hermione couldn't help the snort that came out of her as a response.

"You were left at the altar," she reminded him. "And I came here to comfort you. If anyone should be worried about taking advantage, it should be _me._ "

He smirked. "You take advantage of me all you want."

"Neville," she sobered up. "I… what you said…"

"I'm not asking you to marry me, Hermione."

She laughed at the irony. He _was_ wearing a wedding suit, after all.

"I know that," she told him. "I just… I like you. A lot. _Really_ like you. But you just said you have feelings for me, and I don't want to…"

He sighed, and got a little away from her. Hermione was a little surprised that movement disappointed her so much.

"Are you trying to nicely tell me you just want a quick fuck and then go on with your life?"

Hermione hit him in the arm. Hard.

"Wow," he exclaimed. "That _hurt_. You're stronger than you look."

"Good," was her response. "I would have thought you knew me better than to imply I would just use you for sex and then dump you _after_ you admitted to have feelings for me. What kind of person do you think I am?"

He blushed, and smiled apologetically. "So no quick fuck?"

"Well, I mean… we _could_ ," she answered. "Not quick, though." He smirked again, and he was really attractive doing that, Hermione noticed. "What I meant to say is… this is all new for me. And I don't wanna mess things up between us."

Relieve filled her when Neville came closer to her again, his hands again in her face. "I don't wanna mess things up between us, either. But I think this could be something really _good._ Maybe is the Firewhiskey talking, and maybe I wouldn't have the balls to tell you this any other day. But that passion I was talking about earlier? I feel it with you, Hermione. I've felt it for years, and it's only gotten stronger."

She was feeling really passionate, as well. "I don't really like the missionary very much."

He laughed. "Thank Merlin for that."

Then, he kissed her. And Merlin, the kiss _had_ passion. Hermione wasn't someone really experienced kissing boys. Apart from Viktor and Ron, she hadn't really kiss that many people. So probably, she had not much to compare this kiss to, but she was sure this could catalogue as one hell of a kiss.

Who would have thought, the shy and sweet Neville Longbottom could kiss like _that_?

As lost as she was in her thoughts, she didn't realized Neville had moved them both until her back hit one of the walls in the Greenhouse. She hadn't even noticed they'd stood up, but suddenly she was against the wall, and Neville was filling every inch of her personal space.

His hands were on his hips, gripping strongly but not harming her, and his mouth was _everywhere,_ making Hermione feel dizzy and lightheaded. Not because of the Firewhiskey, this time.

"This isn't…" she tried to talk between kisses. "This isn't what I had in mind when I came here to cheer you up."

"Really?" Neville grinned. "I'm feeling pretty cheer up right now."

As if to prove his point, he came even closer to her, and Hermione half laughed, half moaned when she felt his erection hitting her stomach. "It looks like you are."

She let out a shriek of surprise when he suddenly moved his hands from her hips to below her butt and lifted her up as if she weighted nothing, still keeping her against the wall, and making her put her legs around his hips.

"Fuck," he groaned. "You make me crazy."

She dig her nails in his back, trying to bring him closer, if that was even physically possible. He moved his lips to her jaw, and started kissing her all the way down to her chest. When he got to her right breast and kissed it above the clothes, she arched her back.

"Is this okay?" he asked her when he noticed.

"More than," she promised. "Just… don't stop."

"Never," Neville smiled, and went back to kiss her _everywhere._

"I can't… Neville…" she stammered. "The clothes, just…"

The clothes needed to go, she wanted to tell him, but he just kept kissing her wherever he could, and she couldn't think straight. He seemed to understand her, though, because without removing his lips from her, he reached his hand from his back pocket, muttered an ' _Evanesco_ ' and their clothes just disappeared.

"That's handy," she made him laugh.

She trembled with pleasure when the tip of his penis rubbed against her centre, and jerked her hips trying to make them touch again. He stopped her, putting a hand between them, and she was about to complain when he slid a finger inside her.

"Oh God," she moaned. "Just… God, Neville, just…"

"Shh," he whispered in her ear. "Don't worry, Hermione. I'm gonna take care of you."

"Just… just do something… _move_!" she cried.

Laughing, he kissed her and obeyed her, the finger inside her starting to move. He soon found a spot that made her arched, and then kept hitting it repeatedly until Hermione thought she'd passed out.

She was about to _yell_ at him when he suddenly stopped, so close that she was to reach that point of no return, but then she noticed the tip of her penis rubbing against her one more time, and she thought it was worth it.

"Are you sure?"

She laughed. "You're asking that _now_?"

A cry escaped from her lips when he finally pushed inside her. It had been a long time since Hermione had had sex, and she felt a pang of pain for a moment when he was seated all the way inside, but then he started moving, quickly finding _that_ place again, and all the pain was gone in an instant.

"Fuck," he grunted, and started moving faster.

Hermione felt the breath leave her lungs, gripping his shoulders as strong as she could not to fall. Her back kept hitting the wall, and she was probably going to be sore later because of it, but she couldn't care less.

"I'm… Nev, I'm gonna…"

" _Yes_."

She cried out, loudly, and arched her back against him when she finally felt all the pleasure that had been building up inside her explode. Neville didn't decrease his rhythm, riding out her orgasm until it finished. With a few more thrusts, he led out a growl and she felt him empty himself inside her.

"You are a very naughty professor, Neville Longbottom," she told him when she finally recovered her breath.

He laughed, and kiss her softly. "And to think I'm gonna be teaching Herbology to first years here in a couple of days…"

Hermione blushed. "Poor kids."

Helping her get off from the wall, Neville arched a brow. "Poor kids? Poor _me_ , you mean. I'm not gonna be able to concentrate in here ever again. All I'm gonna be able to see is your fabulous, naked body against that wall."

"Sorry?" she offered a smile on her face.

He returned it. "Never."

They put their clothes back on, and Hermione could notice how Neville's started to look anxious, probably at the thought of what was going to happen next. Hermione, though, had it very clear.

"So," she turned to look at him once she was fully clothed, "we got drunk, and we had sex. How about we complete this date with dinner? I hear there was supposed to be a feast in here, so there's probably lots of food."

Neville's smile in response was so incredibly bright it made Hermione smile, too.

* * *

 **A/N. Matthew Lewis just got married earlier this month –they grow up so fast** **. I saw the pictures and this happened.**


	2. AN

**Sorry this is not an update. It is really hard for me to write this note, as I just arrived to this world of fan fiction (as a writer), but I find myself dreading to turn on my computer every morning, or check my emails, out of fear of what I might find in my Inbox.**

 **When I started writing, I never once thought on doing it for reviews, comments or anything of the sort. I wrote because I love to write. Because I've read so much that I asked myself: why not try it?**

 **I've been reading FF for years, always as a Guest. I've often left reviews in stories I loved. And I've found myself criticizing some other stories. Never to the author, but to myself. I would never presume to be entitled to reach to an author and tell them 'your work is bad, your work does not deserve to be here'.**

 **Those are the kind of comments I've received on my stories. Not all of the comments, mind you. There have been some pretty amazing comments, and that's brought a smile to my face, even if the comment next, a pretty nasty one, would cloud that happiness.**

 **I never wrote for the reviews, but it pains me to admit I'm going to stop writing because of them. Some might think 'just active the moderate reviews option and delete them'. Yes, I thought so myself.**

 **But then, I also thought: I'm doing this for me, because I like writing. Why do I have to live with this kind of anxiety every day? Why do I have to let those negative comments torment me?**

 **Maybe this is drastic, and maybe I'm a coward. But I just don't think it's worth it. Life and art should be precious, appreciated. Not brought down. I don't think I want to stay in a community when that happens on a daily basis.**

 **I'm sorry. Thank you for your time. Keep reading, keep writing, and please be nice to each other.**

 **All my love,**

 **Noelle.**


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